A pair of Blue Throated Barbet was planning to have chicks. They scouted for a good tree to make a nest and finally decided upon a dry dead tree in front of our courtyard just across the road. The birds were in a hurry to hollow out a cavity nest according to size.
My wife and I kept an eye on their daily progress, even recording their activities with a camera. The birds were least bothered with our spying. By the end of the second day a beautiful cavity nest was more or less ready. But the happiness of the birds is short-lived. On the third day as I reached home from work, I noticed a dejected look in my wife. She mourned the fate of that pair of Barbet. The tree where the unfortunate pair of barbet drew their dreams to deliver and raise their chicks was felled by our neighbor for fire wood.
The next sunrise the birds fruitlessly looked around for the missing tree where they had built the nest. After a couple of hours they flew away in search of another tree. Their hard work had been in vain. These are the kind of obstacles in life that comes your way. You have to think smart to find a way out.
My mother was such a smart thinker.
I remember my childhood days when my father, who worked in a grade three post in the government, was thinking of revamping our thatched house. The amount he earned was just not sufficient enough to feed and sustain six members in our family. In those days we didn’t have the luxury of such things as internet, telephone, television, electricity, cooking gas, micro-oven, refrigerator or even a washing machine. We didn’t have to pay bills. Still, money was always in short supply. Every month father planned to purchase a bicycle but dropped the idea at the last minute, worried of falling short of money to meet the monthly maintenance.
Interestingly, people in the seventies and eighties engaged in cultivation were better off than the people working in the government in lower posts. Occasionally, I used to hear father talking with mother to renovate our old thatched home and replace it with tin roofs. Financial difficulties always came in the way of his plans. He frequently had to change his mind. This went on for a decade. Father wouldn’t dare to touch the house for restoration work in case the work remains unfinished for want of cash. Each time he had to pack up his luggage and return to his work place after his leave period ended.
Mother may have been educated only to upper primary level, but she was clever. We had ample areca nut palms and beetle leaves in our backyard. The yield was always good. Mother used to sell those at home itself in lump sum to the bulk dealer. She added some amount to spend for our daily requirements and the rest she kept for a rainy day.
She also domesticated silk moths at home for silkworm yarn. She weaved many a beautiful shawl and sold it in the market for a pretty sum. Thus she made a good amount of money and she kept on putting in a stem cavity between two nodes of a bamboo pole. Bamboo posts were fixed for supporting the side walls of our house. It was like a pedagogical piggy bank which taught us the rudiments of thrift and savings.
Next time when my father came home on leave, they had the same discussion about renovating the house but money was a problem. With a smile my mother pointed her fingers towards the pole to open up the inter node of the bamboo cavity which was almost filled with coins and paper currencies. My father picked up a knife right away, looking jeeringly at mother, and slashed open the big stem cavity. And what he saw he was at a loss for words. He saw money being hoarded there. How did she make the pile? Now he could rebuild their home. The old roof was changed into tin sheets without further delay. We no longer had to worry about sleeping under leaky roofs. I remember those terrible rainy nights when rainwater used to pour down on us and we would pray for the sun to reappear soon.
Our happiness didn’t last long. In a mid June evening, almost half of our tin roofs were blown away by a deadly thunderstorm. We worried about its reinstallation. After the storm calmed down, we went out along with other ill-fated neighbours in search of our lost belongings throughout the night under the incessant downpour.
I remember a proverb: “Man proposes, God disposes”. People make plans but God decides their success or failure. Can we know what will come next? No. We find courage in the face of helplessness, triviality and uncertainty. Hence, uncertainty is the asylum of hope.
